


The Number 4 Killers

by cheyla



Series: WIP Wednesdays [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Adopted Harry Potter, Found Family, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Off-screen Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:08:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28887378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheyla/pseuds/cheyla
Summary: When the Dursleys are murdered, Harry is whisked away from Surrey for the first time in his life and through a series of circumstances, finds himself under the care of Molly Hooper, who—in her own words—is no one special. Ted and Andromeda Tonks beg to differ. With a mass murderer after Harry in the wizarding world, two serial killers after him in the Muggle world, a close connection to the local police, and a strange friendship with a certain consulting detective, she's probably one of a select few who are uniquely capable of looking after Harry while making sure he gets to live a (relatively) normal life.
Series: WIP Wednesdays [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2095647
Comments: 11
Kudos: 45





	1. Chapter 1

At the sound of the front door opening, Harry Potter woke from his fitful sleep. At first he was confused, because Uncle Vernon never left the house for work in the morning without making Harry cook breakfast for him, but when he heard the hushed voices, the ten-year-old started to get the sense that something was wrong. Trying not to make a sound, he curled up further in his blankets and tensed when he heard footsteps going up the stairs. After a minute or so, there was a bloodcurdling scream and Harry stuck his fist in his mouth and bit it in an attempt to not cry out in fear. After his Aunt’s scream, there was a loud grunt and the sound of something heavy hitting the floor. Footsteps pounded down the hall and there was a squeal of shock.

Dudley.

There was a second scream and a third and half of a fourth before a second object fell to the floor. Harry was tightly curled up in a ball now, biting his fist hard enough that the skin broke, and desperately praying that whoever entered the house would leave without looking into his cupboard. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon always tried their best to make the house look like only three people lived there instead of the four that actually did and Harry was hoping that they succeeded in their efforts.

There were a couple of crashes and the sound of things being tossed from upstairs and Harry clenched his eyes, hoping that it would all end soon. And without whoever was in the house finding him.

Once the crashes had stopped, footsteps started to come down the stairs.

“Don’t forget the living room, Will” a man’s voice hissed as they descended. “That boy had two bedrooms full of expensive toys and some of those trinkets in the bedroom were made out of real jade. Who knows what might be in there.”

Harry held his breath as the footsteps padded past his cupboard door, making their way to the kitchen and the living room. There was the sound of some rummaging and a few excited cries of delight whenever the intruders found something particularly expensive. However, once they scoured the rooms, the intruders returned to the front hallway.

“One last picture then,” someone whispered. There was a click and Harry flinched at the sound.

“Great shot,” the second intruder decided.

“Good, then let’s tape them on the door and get the hell out of here. We still have a couple stops to go before we reach Southampton. Wonder how long the coppers will take to find this house.”

“We’ll have already hit the next one, I guarantee it,” the second intruder commented, voice growing louder.

Harry heard the front door open and close but he didn’t relax when he couldn’t hear any sounds. He didn’t truly believe that the intruders had left. After all, Dudley had a game that he liked to play where he would pretend to leave the room but wait for Harry outside the room, out of sight. Harry had walked into too many punches from that game and to avoid getting hurt more, he had learned not to trust where he heard and saw others go and to stay right where he was.

The ten-year-old stayed curled up in his tight ball for hours, eventually falling asleep when the adrenaline that came from waking up to intruders coming through the front door faded away. When he would wake again, it would be to more people coming through the front door.

* * *

“The Number Four Killers again?” a cool, uninterested voice asked.

“Well, there were four pictures taped to the door and this is Number 4 Privet Drive,” someone else said dryly. “I thought you were supposed to be a genius.”

“Shut up, Lestrade,” the first voice snapped.

“This is the first time they’ve struck outside of London,” a third party interjected. “Who found the pictures?”

“The milkman. Apparently he has family in London, so he’s been staying up to date on the news. Privet Drive is one of his first stops, so he called the police right away. The first officers on the scene say that the family hadn’t been dead for more than two or three hours.”

“Just the three bodies?” the first voice stated.

“Yes.”

“Then where’s the fourth person who lives in this house?”

Harry tried to curl up in his ball tighter at the question but his muscles were too stiff from lack of movement throughout the night.

“Fourth person? What are you going on about?” The second voice, named as Lestrade, sounded shocked at the announcement.

“You really haven’t noticed?” the first voice asked. “It’s quite obvious, really. I’m surprised that the killers missed the signs. Before now, they’ve seemed too intelligent and should have known.”

There was a sigh. “All right, Sherlock. Explain.”

“Four chairs around the table where meals were eaten. Four plates and sets of utensils on the drying rack. The photos in the living room show three people but the quality seems from that of a standard digital camera that would be used in a home, not professional, so a fourth person must have taken them. I could go on but just from the kitchen and living room alone, you can tell that a fourth person lives here. Which brings me back to my question—where is that fourth person now?”

“None of the local officers mentioned a fourth person, though I do remember one of the neighbors mentioning a nephew now that you bring it up. He probably fled?” Lestrade guessed.

“And went where? None of the neighbors have mentioned this nephew coming to their house and that’s what children do when there’s trouble at home.” The voice called Sherlock sounded highly skeptical.

“Well, we checked all the bedrooms and there was no sign of a fourth body anywhere,” Lestrade stated.

“Have you checked all the rooms?” the third voice asked. “All the hiding spots a child could possibly fit in? Maybe he hid.”

“And didn’t come out when the police went through the house?” Lestrade sounded angry at the very thought.

“I’m not implying anything about their work,” the third voice said. “Just, look at this picture.”

“What about it?” Two voices asked the question at once.

“There’s no cupboard under the stairs,” the third voice pointed out, a tone of smugness entering his voice. “But turn around.”

There was silence for a few seconds, before footsteps rapidly approached Harry’s cupboard. Before Harry could start praying that no one would find him again, the door unlatched and swung open.

“What the bloody—“ A man’s figure loomed in front of the doorway and Harry flinched as he saw the figure reach down towards him. Carefully the blanket was tugged off of him. “Hey, it’s all right. I’m the police.”

Harry said nothing and didn’t move. He gave a particularly violent flinch when he felt a hand gently grab his arm. The hand pulled back and the figure disappeared from the doorway.

“Someone call Social Services,” Lestrade’s voice shouted. “We’ve got a child in here!”

* * *

Over the next few hours, Harry was slowly convinced to leave his cupboard and he found himself in the back of a police car on his way to the station. He hadn’t said a word since he had been found and every time he got the chance to sit down, he curled up into his ball, clinging to his knees and biting his fist.

Harry could now put faces to the three men he had heard in the hallway that morning. Lestrade was a Detective Inspector from London who had been put in charge of the Number 4 Killers case, as the media was calling it. The duo had struck five houses in London, killing all the inhabitants inside with large knives, and then posted four pictures on the doors, including one with them in it after the murders. Jewelry and other expensive portable items were taken with the duo after the murders. The most notable about all the murder-burglaries was that the address started with the number 4. Until now, they had never struck outside of London and had never left a survivor.

Sherlock was a tall, curly-haired man that acted like an adult child. Harry thought that he was wicked smart, but he had a tendency to pout and blurt out blunt but mean comments, like Dudley would at school. Sherlock kept looking at the photos and then at Harry before muttering something under his breath and scowling.

The third voice, the voice who had pointed out Harry’s cupboard, ended up being a man called John. Of the three men, Harry liked John the most because he wasn’t asking anything of him. John wasn’t trying to get a description of the Number 4 Killers or wondering how Harry’s cupboard had appeared when it hadn’t been there when the photos were taken. He was just concerned about Harry; it was the first time an adult had worried about Harry’s well being who wasn’t a teacher or the school nurse.

“Harry?"

The ten-year-old glanced at the woman who called his name. She was the woman Lestrade had demanded come, someone with Social Services. She had been present in all of the interviews police had tried with Harry and she had made sure that he had been fed and had plenty to drink. Harry liked her but he didn’t even know her name.

“The police want to do one last interview, different from the other interviews they’ve done. It’s called a cognitive interview. It requires you to speak. Are you okay with that?”

Harry thought for a moment before giving a hesitant nod. The woman searched his face for a minute before giving him a careful smile.

“I’ll be there the entire time,” she said. “If it becomes too scary or you want to stop, just let me know.”

Harry gave another nod and got to his feet when the woman gestured for him to do so. He followed her into the interview room, where there was a police officer already waiting.

“Hello Harry, were you told what we would be doing?” he asked.

“A cognitive interview,” Harry mumbled quietly.

The police officer nodded. “And do you know what that entails?”

Harry shook his head and the police officer glanced at the Social Services woman.

“Okay, can you close your eyes for me?” the officer asked after a few seconds. Harry did as he was asked. “Now tell me about last night. Was your room cold or warm? Were there any sounds that stick out?”

“The cupboard was cold,” Harry said quietly. “I could hear the pipes creaking but that’s normal. There was a spider making a web in the corner above my head. I was watching it as I feel asleep.”

“That’s a good start. Now can you tell me what woke you up?”

“The front door opening. I thought it was Uncle Vernon at first but that didn’t make sense because he didn’t have me make breakfast for him. When I heard the footsteps going up the stairs, I knew that it wasn’t him. They moved too quickly to be Uncle Vernon or Dudley but they were too heavy to be Aunt Petunia’s.”

“What happened when the footsteps reached the top of the stairs?"

“It was silent for a minute and then I heard a scream. Aunt Petunia let out the scream—not her angry one, but a scared one.”

“And then?”

“There was a grunt and something heavy hit the floor. The noise must have woke Dudley as well because I heard him go down the hallway towards his parents’ room. There were three more screams before another heavy thing hit the floor. There was crashing and banging before the footsteps came down the stairs again.”

“And what were you doing?”

“I curled up in a ball under my blanket. I didn’t want them to find me. Someone said ‘Don’t forget the living room, Will’ and I was hoping they wouldn’t check every room. I didn’t want them to find my cupboard.”

As Harry relived the night before, his breathing grew quicker and his voice adopted a breathy tone as he spoke quicker and quicker.

“There were more crashes and bangs from the living room before they came back to the hallway. ‘One last picture then’ someone said. Then the first person, who said ‘check the living room’ said ‘Great shot’. ‘Good, then let’s tape them on the door. We still have a couple more stops before we reach Southampton. Wonder how long before anyone notices.’ ‘We’ll have already hit the next one.’ Then the front door opened and closed.”

“That’s great Harry. Now, after they left, what did you do? Did you go and check on your Aunt and Uncle?”

Harry opened his eyes and shook his head. “I didn’t think they left. Dudley pretended to leave all the time but he was just waiting outside the door for me so he could start chasing me.”

“So you stayed in the cupboard.”

Harry nodded.

“I think we have all we need,” the police officer decided. “Did you have any question, Miss Collins?”

“Harry, you called the cupboard ‘your cupboard.’ Why was it your cupboard?” the Social Services woman, Miss Collins, asked as gently as she could.

“Because it was my room. I slept there.”

“Every night?”

Harry nodded. “Since I could use the toilet. Before then, I slept in Dudley’s old crib because he wanted a big boy bed.”

“But what about the second bedroom? It looked like it had toys in there.”

“Dudley had two bedrooms. He needed both because he had so many toys. I got to play with the broken ones sometimes, if I didn’t need to help Aunt Petunia cook or clean.”

“How often did you help your aunt with those types of things?” Miss Collins prodded.

“Every day,” Harry said.

“For how long?”

The ten-year-old gave a shrug. He honestly didn’t know.

“Okay, Harry, we’re done. Why don’t you go wait outside while Officer Phillip and I talk with Detective Inspector Lestrade. Once we’re done, I’ll take you for some pizza. Do you like pizza?”

“I’ve never had it,” Harry admitted, cheeks turning red. He was the only kid his age that had never tried pizza before but it wasn’t like he had the opportunity. Dudley had eaten everything before he could have a taste.

“Well, then I’ll let you try as many toppings as you’d like,” Miss Collins said with a sad smile as she showed Harry to the door.

Before Harry stepped outside the interview room, he turned and looked up at Miss Collins. “What’s going to happen now?” he asked. “I don’t have any other family to stay with, other than Aunt Marge but she’s not my aunt, she’s Dudley’s. She hates me. She makes Ripper try to bite me and chase me.”

“There’s a family in London that can take you in,” Miss Collins said. “They’re very happy to meet you. They have a daughter that’s two years older than you that they adopted. I think you’ll like them.”

Harry bit his lip but left the interview room. He wandered over to the bench he had been sitting on between interviews and watched as Lestrade, Sherlock, and John entered the interview room. When the five adults came back out after a few minutes, Detective Inspector Lestrade was looking a lot happier than he had all day.

“Thank you, Harry,” he said, approaching the dark-haired boy. “I know that must have been hard but you’ve helped a lot.”

Harry gave a shy nod.

“Miss Collins is going to take you for an early dinner and then she’ll bring you to your foster family in London. I hope everything goes well and we might be seeing each other again if I can catch the people who killed your family.”

Why would Lestrade be seeing him again if he caught the intruders? Harry wanted to ask but Aunt Petunia wouldn’t have liked him asking questions, so he kept his mouth closed. 

By the end of the night, Harry would be settled into his new home with his belly full of pizza and soda and popcorn, after having an introductory movie night with his foster family. His foster mother had tucked him into his new bed, the first bed he had ever had, and had wished him a good night, like Harry often heard his Aunt Petunia doing to Dudley. Everything was going fine and Harry liked the Petersons more than he liked the Dursleys, though he felt guilty when he thought about it. After all, the Dursleys were his blood relatives. Didn’t he have to like them because of that?

Everything was going great.

Until the nightmares came.


	2. Chapter 2

_Three and a half months later_

“Miss Collins?” Detective Inspector Lestrade looked surprised as the woman showed herself into his office. “What brings you in here?” 

“I was wondering if there were any updates on the case regarding the Dursleys and Harry Potter, since there’s been no contact” she said. “Harry’s waiting outside.”

“Is everything going okay at his foster home?” Lestrade asked. “And there’s been no new developments. We got a last name for the one named Will and a photo of him and his partner leaving the train station in Southampton but since we released those photos to the media for the public to be on the lookout, they haven’t been spotted. We’re thinking that they must have decided to lay low and we’re hoping that they haven’t chosen to flee the country.”

“Thank you for all your hard work, Detective Inspector,” Miss Collins said. “As for Harry’s foster home…we need to find someone he can stay with for the weekend while I’m finding a new family.” 

“The Petersons didn’t work out?” Lestrade demanded, eyebrows shooting upwards.

“Everything was going fine until Harry started receiving letters. They thought it was a prank at first but from my understanding, it’s gotten to the point of harassment. It started with one letter a day, detailing which room in the house he was staying in, but now he’s getting fifty or more of these letters each day! And they’re being found in the oddest of places. A dozen were stuffed into their hanging baskets. They stayed at a hotel for one night but the receptionist at the front desk had some delivered to her to give to the family.”

“Who delivered them?” Lestrade questioned. Miss Collins held both of her hands up and gave a small shrug.

“No one, as far as they can tell. They were found in the pile of newspapers that gets delivered to the hotel every morning.”

“What’s inside these letters?” Lestrade wanted to know. “Are they threats?”

“No, it’s some scam, offering Harry a place at a school for magic of all things.”

Lestrade blinked. Well, that was a new one. As much as he disliked investigating scams, he would give this scammer some points for creativity. 

“Anyways, the family is feeling like they’re being stalked and don’t feel safe in their own home now. They like Harry but they can’t deal with this.”

Lestrade sighed. “I know someone,” he said. “I have to check to make sure she isn’t working this weekend but if she’s not, I know she’ll take Harry in a heartbeat.”

* * *

Harry looked around the police station as he sat in the chairs outside the detectives’ offices. This police station was busier than the Surrey one had been, but he supposed it was only natural, since London was a lot bigger than Surrey.

For the first month, the city had overwhelmed him. His Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had never taken him to London, even though Dudley had gone for every summer holiday. Up until he had arrived in London, the busiest place he had ever been to was his primary school. And that had been nothing compared to the school the Petersons had placed him in. But he had gotten used to it and in the three months he had been living with the Petersons, he had traveled more than he ever had with the Dursleys.

The door to Detective Inspector Lestrade’s office opened and Miss Collins stepped out with Lestrade. She had a satisfied smile on her face and Harry knew that meant she had found another family for him.

The eleven-year-old kicked his chair. He didn’t want a new family. He had liked the Petersons and things had been going well. But then the letters on and after his birthday had ruined it all.

“Harry, we found you a place to stay for the weekend, until the Wellingstones can get back into the city and pick you up. Her name is Molly and she’ll be here in ten minutes, so check that you have everything in your rucksack.”

“Everything’s there,” Harry replied dully. “Because I haven’t taken anything out of it since I left the Petersons.”

Detective Inspector Lestrade frowned and whispered a question in Miss Collins' ear. Her response was a sigh. “It’s been an abrupt change,” she murmured back. “He’s been struggling with it but I think he’ll be fine once he gets settled at the Wellingstones.”

Harry glared at her before he glanced down at his rucksack, which held all of his belongings. It was thicker now, after living with the Petersons for three months, but it was still nothing compared to what Dudley had before…

While Harry was lost in his thoughts, Miss Collins and Lestrade engaged in idle chatter, both watching the clock until Molly Hooper walked through the door.

“Molly!” Lestrade called, waving her over. Harry glanced up to catch a glimpse of the woman he would be staying with for the weekend.

“Sorry it took so long,” Molly apologized, despite being right on time.

“Don’t apologize,” Greg said. “Thanks for agreeing to this. I know you don’t get called to do this very often, due to your schedule.”

“We’re sorry that we called on your weekend off,” Miss Collins interjected.

“Tom’s out of town,” Molly said softly. “So I’ll be looking forward to some company. Otherwise I probably would’ve ended up working anyways.”

There was an awkward silence before Miss Collins cleared her throat. “This is Harry,” she said, gesturing to the dark-haired eleven-year-old. “He’s been receiving some strange letters that seem to be a scam. If you receive any, let Detective Inspector Lestrade know, since he’ll be looking into the matter. We doubt it has anything to do with the Number Four Killers but just in case, it’s going to be investigated.”

“I’ve dealt with Sherlock,” Molly said, giving Harry a small smile. “I can deal with some letters.” Molly knelt down in front of Harry and stuck out her hand. “Hello, Harry. I’m Molly Hooper.”

Harry hesitantly reached out and shook her hand weakly. Molly gestured for him to get to his feet.

“My flat’s not very far away,” she said. “We can walk there and stop for lunch on the way. What are you hungry for?”

“Pizza,” came the immediate reply. Molly smiled even brighter at the answer.

“Good choice,” she said. “I know a great pizza place. Sherlock got the owner off of a murder charge, so friends of his get discounts.”

“Sherlock has friends?” Lestrade heard Harry ask as he turned to go back into his office. The Detective Inspector quickly shut his door before he doubled over laughing until he ran out of breath.

Once he could go a minute without laughing, Greg Lestrade turned his attention to the green-inked letter sitting on his desk, left behind by Miss Collins. The man gave a small grimace as he noticed that it was written on parchment; what an odd way to send a letter nowadays. He had to make sure Sherlock never got his hands on it. Greg had to make sure that the Consulting Detective’s attention was focused solely on the Number 4 Killers’ case. It would only be after they had made an arrest that Lestrade would consider giving the letter to Sherlock to examine.

* * *

Harry sighed when he saw a pile of mail in front of Molly’s flat door. So they had already found him. Now Molly would react like the Petersons and give him back to Miss Collins.

Molly Hooper glanced down at her temporary charge before following his gaze to the pile of letters at her door. Odd. Her mail was usually put in a small basket at the foot of the stairs.

Her lips made an ‘O’ shape as she got a closer look at the letters. She had seen similar letters before.

“Harry, are these the letters you’ve been receiving?” she asked, kneeling down to pick them up. The eleven-year-old gave a reluctant nod, glaring at the parchment envelopes in her hands.

“The joke isn’t funny anymore,” he grumbled as Molly let him into the flat. She quickly opened the envelope and read the letter’s contents before replying.

“I don’t think it was ever a joke,” she said softly. Green eyes stared up at her in disbelief.

“What do you mean? Of course it’s got to be a joke!” Harry protested. “There’s no such thing as magic. Uncle Vernon always said so.”

“Did something strange ever happen?” Molly asked. “Something that you couldn’t explain?”

Harry shrugged.

“I’m asking because it’s not the first time I’ve seen a letter like this,” Molly explained, sitting down on the couch and gesturing for Harry to sit next to her. “My best friend in primary school received a few and he went off to boarding school the next school year. Before he went there, he could do things like make objects float toward him and create a light in his room at night when he wanted to stay up late and read. Do you remember any instances like that?”

Harry was silent for a minute before he spoke. “Aunt Petunia shaved my head one night before I went to school. I didn’t like the haircut and my hair grew back overnight. And when I was running from Dudley one time at school, I somehow got on the school’s roof without climbing. One second I was on the ground and the next, I was on the roof. No one ever believed me though.”

“Well, I believe you,” Molly said. “Now I’m going to ask you a question and I want you to think hard before you make a decision. Do you want to go to this school? Do you want to learn about magic?”

Harry’s mind raced and he started to curl into himself as he thought. Did he want to learn magic? Of course he did but Uncle Vernon had always said that there was no such thing as magic. The Petersons had said the same thing.

But there was a school for it and Molly had just told him that her friend went there. Why would there be a school for magic if it didn’t exist?

It was a boarding school too. If Harry went to the school, he would be able to get away from London and the constant feeling of being overwhelmed that he had felt ever since he left Surrey. Surely a boarding school, especially one for a special purpose, would be smaller than the public school he would be going to.

And with it being a boarding school, Harry didn’t have to worry about living with a family and getting moved around whenever they decided that he wasn’t worth keeping. 

But who would pay for his school supplies? If Harry didn’t have a family to stay with, there was no one to pay for supplies and a uniform. And somehow he doubted that Social Services would pay for stuff for a magic school because even Miss Collins seemed to think that magic didn’t exist.

“I don’t know,” Harry mumbled, looking at his feet.

“If I could find my friend, do you want to talk to him? Ask him any questions that you might have? It could help you make up your mind.”

Harry thought for a minute more before he gave a jerky nod. Molly gave him a reassuring smile before she pulled out her cell phone and dialed her mother’s number.

Her mother had stayed friends with the Tonks family after her husband had died and called up Ted’s mother every Sunday to talk for an hour. Molly was able to get the most current number for her old school friend after a quick call to the Tonks and jotted it down so she could quickly dial it after hanging up with her mother.

“Hello?” Molly’s breath caught in her throat as the phone was answered. She hated talking on the phone, especially when the other person was someone who she rarely talked to.

“Ted? It’s Molly Hooper.”

There was silence for a few seconds before Ted’s voice said, “Molly Hooper. I haven’t heard from you since…”

“Since you left for secondary school.”

“Has it been that long? My mother is always talking about you and your mother during the holidays.”

“Yes, well they’re still close. Your parents’ names come up a lot, though I don’t hear much about you anymore.”

“You know I was always bad about keeping in touch with others,” Ted said. “So, what’s new with you?”

“I have a young man that I’m watching for the weekend that’s been receiving letters like you did before you went off to your secondary school. I was hoping we could get together so he can ask you some questions, as he hasn’t quite made up his mind about if he wants to go or not.”

“He’s received a Hogwarts letter?” Ted asked, sounding faintly shocked. “And you remembered my letter?”

“Well it was an interesting name,” Molly said, her cheeks flushing. “It stuck out.”

“Where are you living?” Ted asked. “My wife and I can come to you and we can meet for dinner. I’d bring our daughter as well but she’s in a training course right now and won’t be home for a week or two.”

“London,” Molly replied. “Near Camden. Are you in town?”

“It’s a quick trip for us,” Ted replied. “Give me the address and Dromeda and I will meet you at seven. We’ll make the reservations.”

“Thanks Ted,” Molly said and gave the man her address. “Harry and I look forward to seeing you.”

She meant it to be as a parting comment but something about it caught Ted’s attention.

“Harry?” he asked. “What’s the last name?”

Molly glanced at Harry, who was sitting patiently on the couch, biting his fingernails as his boredom grew. “Harry, what’s your surname?” she asked.

“Potter,” Harry replied automatically.

“Potter,” Molly repeated on the phone. There was silence on the other end until there was an abrupt clatter, as if the phone had fallen to the ground.

“Hello?” Molly asked, but there was no response. After a while, the line went dead and the woman shrugged as she put her phone away.

“They can meet us,” she informed Harry. “And you can ask them everything you want to know.”

“Do you have a piece of paper?” Harry asked after a few seconds. “I have a lot right now.”


End file.
